A Watery Grave
by AnastaziaDanielle
Summary: Weechester fic - Dean finds out it's a bad idea to swim alone.


Disclaimer: I do not own SPN.

Author's Note: It's been quite a while since I've written. Work this past year has been brutal. I know I have other unfinished fics, but decided to try a one-shot to get back into the swing of things. Enjoy!

A Watery Grave

It was one of those summer days when it was so hot the air seemed to shimmer in the heat. Locusts droned their buzzing songs off and on as the sun bore down on the small, drowsy Arizona town. Not a breath of air stirred in the late morning sun that only promised to burn hotter as the day aged.

Ten year old Dean Winchester sighed heavily and flopped back onto the bed closest to the door. He could feel the scratchy, pink-flowered motel comforter beneath him, and he grimaced as it scratched his sunburn. He and Sam, his 6-year-old brother, had been stuck in this miserable excuse for a motel for a week while their father hunted some creature or another about two hours away only to return for two days and then leave on another hunt last night.

Dad had left strict instructions to stay in the motel room and not to let Sammy out of his sight. Dean bit back another sigh and glared across the room at the other bed. Sammy and been fighting a stubborn summer cold for a week and had been clingy and whiney. Dean really just needed a few minutes to himself.

Pushing up on his elbows, Dean eyed his brother. Sam was curled up in a ball beneath an old blue blanket they always carried with them in the Impala. His mussed brown hair hung down in his eyes and his cheeks were flushed with sleep and possibly the remnants of a fever. One fist was curled beneath his chin and he breathed with the snuffling sound of a clogged nose. He had just fallen asleep within the past half an hour. Dean knew that with how miserable Sam had been feeling he would sleep for at least another hour.

A grin curved his lips as he pushed off the bed and headed to the room's window. Tugging the dusty, faded drapes aside, he gazed out at the motel's small swimming pool. It was unoccupied this time of the day as almost everyone staying at the motel had resumed their travels down the dusty highway that ran in front of the motel. With Sam sleeping, Dean knew he could steal a few minutes by himself to swim. Their dad would never have to know. Plus, he could see the door to their room from the pool so he would know that Sam was safe.

Dean quickly located his faded blue swimming trunks in the bottom of his duffle. They'd found them at a thrift store at the beginning of the summer. Sam had a green pair that was very similar. Dean changed as quietly as he could and then checked on Sam one last time. The little boy was still snoozing away, so Dean tugged the blankets up higher on the boy's shoulder and then slipped quietly out of the room making sure to lock the door behind him. He would only be gone a few minutes.

The pavement burned the souls of Dean's bare feet as he tiptoed across the cracked cement to the pool hissing through his teeth. "Hot! Hot! Hot!"

Reaching the pool's steps, he placed one foot and then the other into the water. While it wasn't cold, it was at least somewhat cool. It would have to do. Dean descended the final two steps and sighed happily as the water lapped around his waist. Pushing off with his feet, he swam to the other side of the small pool and then flipped onto his back to float. He squinted up into the blue, cloudless sky and felt the heat of the sun on his face. He wished he'd thought to put on some sunscreen. He was going to get fried, but it should fade before his dad returned.

Dean flipped over and began to swim once again, diving down to touch the bottom of the pool. He returned to the surface and sucked in a lungful of air before diving down once again. This time he stayed underwater until his lungs ached from the lack of air. He broke the surface and wiped the droplets from his face, his eyes traveling to the door of the motel room. It was undisturbed and Dean reassured himself that Sam was fine.

The water felt good on the hot summer day, and Dean decided that a few more minutes in the pool wouldn't hurt. He dove below the surface once again, reveling in the coolness of the water surrounding his body. As he neared the bottom of the pool, something shiny glinted off the blue liner next to the pool drain and caught his eye. Kicking his feet, Dean reached out to grab the item. He could see now that it looked like a ring.

Without warning, his hand was sucked into the drain. Startled, Dean jerked back, kicking his feet frantically. The suction in the drain refused to released his hand and panic flared in his chest. He kicked his feet harder and tried pulling on the wrist of his trapped hand with his free one. The drain would not ease its grip.

Terror coiled in Dean's gut as his chest began to ache from lack of air. He was going to drown. His little brother was all alone in the motel room and he was going to drown and leave Sam all by himself. Dean fought harder to free his hand, but his thoughts became foggy from lack of oxygen to his brain.

Six-year-old Sammy woke with a start as the motel room's clunky old air conditioner groaned while trying to keep up with the heat outside. He sneezed and rubbed at his nose before casting his eyes toward his brother's bed. It was empty although the bedspread was mussed like Dean had been sprawled there watching television not too long ago. Wiping his running nose with the back of his hand, Sam rolled over to look toward the bathroom certain that's wear he'd find his brother.

Alarm spiraled through him when he realized the bathroom was empty and dark, the door open. Sam pushed up in bed with a loud sniff and planted his feet on the room's faded brown carpet. He shuffled toward the dingy window and pulled back the faded curtain. The cement around the motel's pool shimmered in the summer heat, but there was no sign of Dean. Sam's heart pounded anxiously in his chest. Their dad had instructed his brother to stay in the room with Sam at all times while he was away at work. Where was Dean?

Although he knew his brother would tan his hide if he caught him, Sam decided to try opening the room's door to see if he could locate Dean. As he turned from the window, he noticed his brother's clothing stacked on top of his duffle. It was the shirt Dean had been wearing earlier today. Sam coughed and looked suspiciously out toward the pool once again. He didn't see anyone, but if his brother was swimming under the surface he wouldn't be able to see him from the window.

Worry for his brother made Sam's stomach hurt. He wiped at his nose carelessly and decided to risk getting in trouble by leaving the room. He had to know if his big brother was all right. Tugging his lower lip between his teeth, Sam unlocked the door and turned the knob. The chain wasn't latched. Taking a deep breath, he tugged the door open and winced as the heat hit him full in the face.

Sam padded outside in his socks, not taking the time to put his shoes on. The air outside was so hot that goosebumps broke out on his skin for a few seconds and Sam fought a shiver. The cicadas song droned loudly in the still, scorching air. Sam looked up and down the line of motel rooms, but there was no Dean in sight. He took mincing steps forward toward the pool as the cement burned his feet through the thin material of the socks.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he spied his brother at the bottom of the pool. Dean had just gone for a quick swim. Sam could sneak back into the room and his brother would never know he had been outside. Sam frowned when Dean didn't move from the spot and then he lunged to the edge of the pool when he realized something was wrong and his brother wasn't moving. "Dean!"

Their dad had been helping Sam learn how to swim before he left on his latest trip, but Sam was sure he couldn't get to the bottom of the pool and stay there long enough to help his brother. "Help!" he screamed loudly. "Help! My brother is drowning!"

"Hang on, Dean! I'm getting help!" Sam, no longer caring about the hot sidewalk, dashed toward the motel's office screaming for help as he went.

The motel manager appeared in the doorway, shielding his eyes from the sun as a cigarette hung out of the side of his mouth.

"My brother is caught in the pool! He's drowning! You have to come!" Sam screamed. He tripped and fell on the sidewalk, skinning both knees. He pushed to his feet and ignored the pain as he turned back toward the pool once he was sure the manager was following him.

The manager, a tall, skinny man wearing a dingy white tank top and faded jeans, tossed his cigarette down on the cement and ran after Sam. He dove straight into the pool as Sam dropped to his knees on the tile at the side of the pool as sobs made his chest heave.

"Please," he pleaded quietly. "Please let him be okay."

Sam's fingers clutched the edge of the pool tightly as he watched the manager struggle to pull his brother from whatever had him caught at the bottom. "Dean!" Sam screamed once again, unable to help himself.

The manager broke the surface without Dean and sucked in another deep breath before diving back down to the bottom to pull on the young boy. After several tugs, Dean came free and the manager swam to the surface dragging Dean with him.

Sam pushed to his feet and helped pull his brother onto the concrete. Dean's body was limp as Sam rolled him gently over onto his back. He shook his brother by the arm as hard as he could as the motel's manager drug himself out of the pool and swiped the water from his eyes. "Dean! Dean, please open your eyes!" Sam pleaded.

"Move back," the motel manager ordered as he put his ear down by Dean's nose. "He's not breathing."

"Dean," the six-year-old sobbed, "please don't die." Sam moved to Dean's other side and gripped his big brother's hand tightly.

The manager breathed into Dean's mouth and then began chest compressions. "Come on, come on, breathe," he murmured as he pressed on Dean's chest.

The seconds seemed to drag on for minutes as Sam watched the man press on his brother's chest. Scalding tears trailed down Sam's cheeks and he was crying so hard he could hardly breathe. "Please don't die," he repeated over and over under his breath.

Dean's body jerked suddenly and he began to cough, water spilling out of his mouth.

"Get him on his side," the manager told Sam.

Dean choked and vomited pool water as he gasped for breath, his body jerking from the effort.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam soothed as he rubbed his brother's heaving back. "You're going to be all right." The little boy drooped with relief against the hot cement as his tears dripped down onto his brother's skin.

Dean continued to cough and choke. Sam was sure his brother had vomited up at least a bucket of water before his body finally sagged bonelessly against the ground. Dean concentrated on getting air into his oxygen deprived lungs as he looked around in confusion, taking in his little brother with tear-stained cheeks and the soaking wet man peering down worriedly at him. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what had happened and why his hand hurt so badly.

"Dean," Sam sobbed as he brushed his brother's soaking wet blonde hair back from his face, "I was so scared." Sam leaned down and pressed his face into his big brother's shoulder as sobs shook his body. "I thought you were dead."

Dean managed to get a trembling hand up to his brother's dark brown hair and let it rest there limply. He was still too winded to try to talk, so he just rested and let the heat of the sun beat down on his suddenly shivering body.

"We need to get him to your room," the manager informed Sam as he gently pushed the little boy aside and lifted a shaking Dean into his arms. "Where's your dad?"

Sam sucked in a gulp of air and forced his mind to focus. "He's at work. I don't know where. His job here is only for a couple of weeks. My brother is watching me." Sam ran ahead and opened the door to their room so that the man could place Dean on the bed.

"Change his clothes and get him under the blankets," the man told Sam. "He might throw up some more water, so be ready. I'll be back to check on you in a bit. I'll get some ice for his hand, and then I need to get back to the office."

Sam nodded. "I'll take good care of him. Thank you, Mister. Thank you for saving my brother!"

The man ruffled Sam's brown hair. "I'll check on you later, kid."

Once the manager returned to the office after delivering some ice, Sam found a pair of Dean's old sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that his brother liked to sleep in. "Let's get you changed, Dean," he soothed his brother as he climbed on the bed and struggled with removing his older brother's wet clothes. Sam was sweating by the time he finished. He pulled the scratchy comforter and the sheets down and then tucked them in around his brother before wrapping the bag of ice in a towel and placing it carefully over Dean's injured hand.

Dean swallowed with a grimace. His throat burned from vomiting up all the pool water. His foggy brain began to clear as he warmed up under the blankets, and he remembered his swimming excursion and getting his hand stuck in the pool drain. "Sammy," he croaked weakly.

"I'm right here," Sam soothed as he crawled up onto the bed and curled up next to his brother. "I was so scared, Dean." The little boy tried valiantly to blink back tears as he rested his head against Dean's chest to hear his brother's heartbeat.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean ground out in a raspy voice. "I was only going to be gone a few minutes. I was stupid. What if something had happened to me and Dad was away at work? You'd be here all by yourself." Dean was terrified at the thought of his little brother ending up in foster care with no idea where their dad was. It would have been all his fault. "I'm so, so sorry, Sammy." To his horror, Dean felt tears welling up in his eyes and they spilled over before he could blink them back.

Sam's arm tightened around his brother as the little boy sniffled and then stifled a cough. He frowned at the sight of the tears on Dean's face and wiped them away with his small fingers. Sam knew better than to mention them; Dean hated for anyone to think he was weak, and he never cried in front of anyone. "As long as you're alive, Dean," Sam sighed as he rested his chin on Dean's chest, "that's all that matters."

Dean winced at Sam's movement.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, his little face pinched in a frown. "Are you hurt?"

"Chest is sore," Dean groaned, rubbing his good hand over her sternum.

"That's from where the motel guy helped you breathe," Sam pointed out. He lifted up his brother's t-shirt and his eyes widened at the sight of the bruising that was beginning to show up. "No wonder you're sore, Dean."

"I'll be okay, Sam," Dean promised his little brother, hating to see the worry lurking in Sam's hazel eyes. "I'm never going to go swimming by myself again. I promise."

"Good," Sam sighed happily as he once again curled against Dean, being careful to avoid his chest.

"Thanks for taking care of me today, Sammy," Dean forced out. "I should be the one taking care of you. I need to salt the door again." His dad was very adamant that Dean always take precautions to keep himself and his brother safe.

Sam shook his head, his hair brushing against Dean's jawline. "Tonight it's my turn to take care of you." Sam sat up straight and puffed his chest out proudly. "I can do it, Dean. I've been watching you take care of me, so I know what to do."

The small boy sat up and slid off the bed. He laid the salt line in front of the door the way his brother always did even though he didn't understand why. Then, he hurried to the room's small sink where he filled a plastic cup with water and brought it back to his brother. Then he returned the small first aid kit from his Dean's duffle and handed it to him. "You can take some medicine so your chest will stop hurting."

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean sloshed water over the blankets and grimaced in pain as he pushed himself into a sitting position to attempt to take the medicine. Sam's little hand reached out and cradled the back of his brother's head, helping him stay upright long enough to swallow the pills down with water. Dean sank weakly back down onto the bed when he was done, and Sam placed the cup on the bedside table and returned the first aid kit to Dean's bag.

"Want me to go get some more ice? I can make an ice pack for your chest." Sam peered at Dean anxiously. He could tell his brother was in pain.

"No!" Dean protested. "Don't leave the room, Sammy. I'll be fine." The thought of sending Sam outside unprotected made Dean's stomach knot with worry.

"I know!" Sam smiled brightly. "We can watch TV together. I can keep you company. You always do that for me when I'm sick." His brother had in fact watched television with him all day a few days ago when he had a persistent fever that refused to break.

Sam clambered up on the bed once again. "You tell me if you need anything, okay?"

"'Kay, Sam," Dean yawned tiredly.

Sam situated himself beside his brother so that his leg was brushing Dean's arm as he leaned against the headboard. "Don't worry, Dean," he promised, his pudgy hand brushing his brother's blonde hair back off his forehead. "I'm gonna take care of you." Sam frowned in determination as Dean slipped into slumber. "I promise, big brother. You're gonna look after me and I'm gonna watch after you. We'll have each other's backs just like in the movies. You just wait and see."

Sam yawned and sniffled before curling up in a ball beside his brother and dropping off to sleep.

End


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